


The Titles We Bear

by Violentlydelightful



Category: The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: F/M, Mild Sexual Content, Multi, No Plot/Plotless, everyone is bi, everyone is poly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2019-05-30 06:12:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15090725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violentlydelightful/pseuds/Violentlydelightful
Summary: Alina's friends still come visit her after her supposed martyrdom. Some of those visits are more intimate than others. The only rule in her bedroom is no titles.(A series of interconnected oneshots where Alina and Mal sleep with and comfort their friends as they all attempt to come to terms with the scars and titles they can't quite bear to let go of.)





	The Titles We Bear

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is very mild on the sexy times, as I'm testing the waters of this idea. Future chapters may be a little more explicit; if so I will update the rating accordingly.

The hazel eyed man arrived just as night began to settle around the orphanage. The teachers had their hands full putting the children to bed, so no one was in the front hall to open the door. He had been expecting this though, and when his brisk knock went unanswered, he let himself in. His boots clicked softly against the polished floors, but no one paid him any mind. 

He made his way down the dimly lit hallway, up the stairs, and to the dark, imposing door on the top floor. It was pulled to, but not shut. He didn't bother to knock on this one. It opened silently at his touch, to reveal the slender blonde woman he had come to see. The man closed the distance between then with a few wide steps and brought his hand to rest against her cheek

“At last, my Sun Queen,” he said in a breathy whisper, a roguish smile tugging at his lips. She frowned and batted his hand away from her cheek. 

“No titles,” she said firmly. 

“I know, I know. But then who am I supposed to be? Just another nameless lover in your rooms?” He threw a gloved hand across his face. 

“Don’t be an ass, Nikolai.” She had to stretch up onto her tiptoes to kiss him, but she did anyway. 

“So no talking at all then,” he said, laughing as he broke their kiss. 

“I guess not.” Her hands found the polished buttons on his coat as his tugged at the laces at the front of her dress, so unlike the dark kefta she'd worn when he'd first met her. They shed their clothes in a flurry of gasps and kisses, roaming hands and lingering fingers. She led him to bed with a bright smile, and, true to his word, there was no talking for quite some time.

When they had caught their breath again, Alina rose from the bed and wrapped herself in a pale blue dressing gown. 

“Do you want tea?” she asked, pouring herself a cup from the silver samovar on the sideboard. 

“Got anything stronger?” 

“Ugh,” she said. But she pointed to a dark wood cabinet on the far wall. He pulled the sheets around his waist and padded over to open the cabinet. 

“Nikolai! How am I supposed to sleep when you're trailing my bedding all over the room?” 

“A little less comfort would be good for your soul,” he teased. “Why, I heard the great Sankta Alina slept in bedrolls in the forest. You should aspire to be more like her.” 

“No thanks,” she said flatly. “Saints get martyred and I happen to like my life.” Her barely contained smile belied the bite in her voice. She settled herself into an armchair by the fire while he poured a generous measure of kvas into a delicate glass. Everything here was functional, but beautiful. No ostentatious beauty for its own sake, and no militant function without form. Nikolai loved that about this place. Sometimes it made him wonder what his purpose was here. He threw himself into the other chair with an easy grace. Alina snorted. 

“Must you make a production of everything?” 

“Always.” He raised his glass and she laughed, reaching across the table to gently toast her teacup against his kvas. 

“What are we toasting?” he asked. 

“Why, the health of the King, of course. And his new bride.” She smiled sweetly, feigning obliviousness to his very obvious annoyance. If he was going to be a brat, she would give as good as she got. 

“But of course! I'd wish him better looks, but that's impossible. He's already the most handsome man in Ravka.” 

That man was impossible to out do. She switched tactics. 

“So, what is Stasia, daughter of the Duke of whatever, like?” 

“She's lovely. Political, smart. She understands what a royal marriage means, and she seems excited to help me build something. But do you want to know my favorite thing about her?” 

“What?” Alina asked cautiously.

“She will never take another man into her bed!” Nikolai announced triumphantly. Alina rolled her eyes. 

“From what I hear, another man was never the issue,” she said dryly. 

“Now you’re getting it.” Nikolai winked. “As my queen, she is of course welcome to keep any number of ladies of the court in attendance to her royal personage, and if one of them happens to spend more time in her bed chamber than I do, what do I care? My heirs will never be called bastards.” 

“And your wife will never be jealous of your trips here?” 

He shrugged in a rumbled, elegant way. The bedclothes rustled around him, and Alina caught her eyes drifting lower. Far more embarrassing, though, was the way she flushed when he caught her looking. Nikolai leapt out of the chair, scooped Alina up, and carried her to the bed again, ignoring her shrieking laughter and breathless commands to set her back down.

“Her royal majesty Stasia cares about helping her King make Ravka better place. If her King also makes regular pilgrimages to honor his martyred friend the Sankta Alina, or takes up juggling, or discreetly beds every pretty face between Os Alta and goddamn Novia Zem, she truly does not care.” 

“And do you intend to?” she asked archly, even as she wiggled herself into a more comfortable position under him. 

“Intend to what?” he said, clearly distracted by his hands on her waist, her hands on his back. 

“Bed every pretty face between here and Novia Zem.” 

“Hmm.” Nikolai brushed aside her white blonde hair and planted a soft kiss on her collarbone. She shivered at the feel of it. It had taken months before the feeling of pressure on her collarbones, the back of her neck, had stopped sending her into a panic. The Stag still sat heavy with her some days. But tonight, in the arms of a man she loved and trusted, the delicate press of his lips against her skin was a relief. Alina arched her back to expose more of her neck and chest to his attentions, and she gasped when he pulled away to stare down at her upturned face. 

“I might, someday. But for now, I just want to be with people I can trust.” He kissed her again, but the ardor of a few moments ago had banked. He rolled over to lay beside her instead. She pulled his hand to her lips and kissed the scars along his knuckles. Once, they had been claws. Before that, the callused hands of a pirate Captain. Now, they were almost always gloved, hidden in public. But in this room he hid nothing. 

“You can always trust me. Us.” 

“Where is the other half of your us? Killing a rabbit with his teeth?”  

“Some of the older kids begged for a camping trip. They're just in the woods on the edge of the field, so they'll be back in time for breakfast in the morning. But Mal thought I might like some time with you, alone.” 

“He's smarter than he looks.” Nikolai’s fingers traced their way around her breasts, down the plane of her stomach. 

“He says the same thing about you, you know.” She draped an arm across his waist and nestled her head in the crook of his shoulder, a carelessly proprietary gesture that sent a warm wave of contentment through him.

Nikolai hadn't realized he was asleep until the sound of boots in the polished wood floors woke him. Alina was still fast asleep, curled up against him. In sleep, she looked even more delicate than she did when she was awake. 

“Sorry,” Mal whispered, shucking off his boots and setting them by the door. He made a face at the pile of clothes they'd left the previous night, before stepping around them to remove his own pants and shirt, taking care to fold them neatly and put them away. In some ways, he would always be a soldier. As Mal slid into the bed on Alina’s other side, wrapping a petite arm around her, Nikolai thought he would always be the captain of her guard, too. His last thought before drifting back into sleep in the light of the early morning was that, no matter what powers she might have, or what rules she might dictate in the confines of her rooms, Alina would always be their Sun. 


End file.
